Last Friday night, I volunteered to chaperone "Spirit Night" at the local middle school. I am trying to get out and meet more people in the community. Also, I wanted to spy on my kid to see how he behaves out in the wild. 

When I walked into the school, I was handed a name tag and given a task chart for the night. When former CEOs become the head of the PTA, school activities become well oiled machines. 

My first task of the night was to hand out neon necklaces to the kids, so they could glow when they danced in the darkened gym. This was a fun job, because I got a good look at all the kids as they came in the doors. 

The boys wore t-shirts and jeans. The middle school boy uniform has not changed, since we were kids. The girls wore identical outfits, but they were different from the tight jeans and feathered hair uniform that we wore during my Disco-era middle school. It was a casual event, so the girls wore super short shorts. Hours and hours must have been spent removing leg and bikini line hair. Their hair was long, straight and parted down the middle, Morticia-style. For formal affairs, I understand the girls go for the sausage casing dress that stops below the bum. 

There must be some ideal beauty that all the girls were trying to replicate, regardless of their body types. I'm not sure where this ideal comes from. The sausage dress and the Daisy Duke shorts are not in Vogue or other fashion magazines. 

I wanted to grab those girls, especially those with the wide hips and the wavy hair, and shout at them, "You're beautiful!" But they wouldn't listen. I try telling my son, who is suddenly desperate to be one of the crowd, that he's a great kid, because he's different. His interests in politics and history are awesome, and he should talk about that stuff at school. But he doesn't listen. He looks at envy at the boys who hit puberty early – the sullen Hulks – and wishes that he was bigger. 

I wanted to save all of those kids from the insecurity of middle school, but I couldn't.